15. Lisa
Lisa
“Are you sure?”
Ethan’s eyes are wide, pleading. I know the silent question he’s asking, but I also know it will only be worse if I answer it the way I want to.
I can’t even hint at what awaits me when I’m left alone with Austin.
To admit that out loud would only make it so much worse. This is a damage control moment.
I school my expression into one of nonchalance, offering Ethan a soft, reassuring smile instead. “I’m fine. You can go home.”
Still, Ethan doesn’t move, his gaze sidling over to where Austin stands. Austin clears his throat. “You heard her, brother,” he growls, crossing his arms. “You can go.”
Ethan shakes his head but obliges, giving me a long look as he leaves to join his wife out in their car. It takes the door an eternity to close, as though it knows what will happen the second it’s fully shut, too. My heart rate triples as I hear the final clink of the latch.
The sound of glass shattering makes me flinch, and I turn slowly, meeting Austin’s glare, burning like two hot embers. “What the fuck was that, Lyssa?” he snarls. “You’ve got some nerve, inviting my family here for dinner and then talking like that!”
“We haven’t seen them since their wedding, and Patty kept asking to come over. And all I said was that you were looking for a new job. You were the one talking about something in a new field, since this one isn’t working out the way you’d hoped.”
“You made me sound like a fucking failure, Lyss!” He stalks around the table towards me. I make the mistake of stepping back, keeping the table between us. The heated rage in his eyes is doused, instantly turning hard and ice cold. The shift is far worse.
“You’ve got that look on your face. What is it you want to say to me? Huh?” He stalks forward again, and this time I hold my ground, shaking my head.
“Nothing,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He’s in my space now, his breath hot on my cheek. I turn my chin, eyes averted.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he says. “Even though I give you everything, it’s always my fault, right? Am I not enough for you?”
“That’s – that’s not what I said.”
He bristles, his nostrils flaring. “Are you calling me a liar?”
There’s no reasoning my way out of this one. His mind is made up.
I open my mouth, unsure what I’ll even say, but before I can get any words out, his hands close around my neck.
I scramble against him, but my feet can’t find purchase.
He has me lifted off the ground, pressing me back against the wall by my throat.
I scratch at his arms before clutching them, all my energy narrowing to the sole purpose of finding a way to pass breath. My vision blurs around the edges.
“You and your smart mouth,” he hisses, dropping me. I collapse to my knees, gasping precious lungfuls of air. “You’re lucky I love you. Stop provoking me, or nobody will.”
I wake up choking, black dots swarming my vision as I regain my breathing.
I’m not sure if it’s the panic, but I swear everything was even more realistic than my last nightmare.
I could feel every callous on his hands as they tightened around my throat, as though he reached through the dream to find me once more.
I roll out of bed and check the mirror for marks, just in case, though I find none.
I brush my fingers against my throat, considering. This is exactly the reminder I needed. There are so many reasons I cannot allow myself to get close to someone again, this one chief among them. I wanted a physical escape, but Benji wanted more. And more is something I just can’t give.
If I allow myself to get close to someone again, I will lose the freedom I fought tooth and nail for. I can’t afford to give someone that kind of control over me again, body or mind.
I need something I can remove myself from, quickly and easily, and everything about Benji is messy.
We live in the same building, for starters.
He towers an easy half foot over me, with at least another hundred pounds of sheer muscle to boot.
And although all of his touches have been incredibly gentle, and he’s given me permission to lead the way in that regard, that doesn’t mean it won’t change.
Everyone has darkness inside them, it’s just that some hide it better than others.
I only need to look in the mirror for that painful reminder.
All of that aside, what’s most terrifying is the way he genuinely wants to know the inner workings of my mind.
He wants my name, my history, my deepest thoughts.
He wants to pull them out of me, and if he ever did…
there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in hell he’d stay, after knowing the whole story.
Even if he didn’t use it against me, it still wouldn’t remove the fact that I’m damaged goods.
I’m broken, shattered into sharp pieces that will cut anyone who tries to pick them up.
I begin getting ready for work and check my phone, rolling my eyes as I see the text from Andi.
Andi: Girllll. Does the man never take a bad photo or video? I don’t need to edit a thing. He’s just too damn perfect.
I roll my eyes and type out a response.
Me: He’s shit at boxing, if that helps. I sent him flying across the ring yesterday with one back hook.
Andi: Why tf would you do that? Poor guy probably gets hit enough at hockey!
Andi: His brains are probably half mush already. You just propelled them into full mush. Full mush, Lisa.
Me: See? He’s not perfect. He’s mush. Plus, I didn’t give him anything he didn’t ask for.
Andi: Ooooh… What else did he ask for?
I pause, considering what to tell her. Benji wouldn’t tell the others that he’d shut me down mid-kiss, would he? Especially not Jordie. The secret could safely stay between us and my doorway.
I continue getting dressed, ignoring my phone as it vibrates several more times. Finally, I grab Winny’s leash and flip my phone open, reading the texts.
Andi: Bitch. I know you read my text. What did you two do?!
Andi: I hope it was juicy.
Andi: I hope you washed your sheets afterwards.
Andi: Oh. Maybe you’re still doing it…
Andi: USE PROTECTION!!!
I snort and put my phone away, deciding to let her continue her spiral. I’m excited to see where it goes.
I open the door and Winny shoots out, pulling the leash taut in his excitement to get downstairs for his walk. I follow and stumble over something in the entryway, landing very ungracefully on the doormat.
I glance down and see a pair of black boots. The soles are thick and grippy, and they look brand new. There’s a piece of paper sticking out of one of them. I snag it and read the handwritten note.
I saw the boxing shoes you put on yesterday and took a guess with the size here. Hope this helps keep you on your feet.
-Benji
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I mutter.
I’ve never been good at receiving gifts; it always makes me uncomfortable.
There are always strings attached. And this?
From someone I’ve barely had a handful of conversations with?
I grab the boot closest to me and scan the brand, cursing when I recognize it.
These are top-tier boots, worth a few hundred dollars, at least.
I scramble back up and close my door, snagging both boots as I go. Instead of heading to the first floor, I hit Benji’s floor, tapping my high-top-clad foot impatiently as I wait for the elevator to hit the sixth floor.
When it does, I storm out and pull Winny alongside me, who is clearly confused but happy to follow.
I skid to a stop outside 604, banging on it for several long seconds.
It’s just after six in the morning, but considering I’ve caught him at the gym around now, I know he’s an early riser.
It can’t be that much of an early wake-up call.
As I wait a beat, then bang again, I wonder briefly if he lives with his friends. A part of me will feel bad if Grant or Jordie answer – though the boots can just as easily be returned to either one of them.
But it’s Benjamin freaking Estes himself who eventually opens the door, and it’s clear I’ve woken him up. His hair stands on end and his eyes are foggy with sleep.
My mouth twists in a self-satisfied smirk until my eyes drop to his bare chest and boxers, which peek out from low-hanging sweats. Those bold tattoos swirl over his bare skin, and the v that teases out from his waistband, along with the dusting of dark hair leading below, is truly sinful.
“What time is it?” he asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Is that Winny?”
Winny gives a happy wiggle at the sound of his name, and I force my eyes back up, reminding myself why I’m here. Just because he looks even better up close and personal doesn’t mean I want everything else tied to his physical offers.
“Time for a gift return,” I say. I move Winny’s leash to the crook of my elbow and shove the boots into his arms, crossing my own once they’re free of the offending gift.
He makes a grab for them before they can fall to the ground, blearily blinking down at them. His brow furrows. “This is because I bought you boots?”
“No,” I reply. “It’s because of why you bought me boots, and how much the boots cost.”
“Well, you said you couldn’t afford them.
” He transfers the boots to one arm and rubs the back of his neck, clearly confused.
“And not to sound like a douche, but I’m a professional athlete who lives alone.
It’s no NHL salary – yet – but most of my shit is sponsored.
I can afford to give you a little something when you need it. ”
“I said I was waiting for my next paycheck, not that I couldn’t afford it.
And that’s just it,” I seethe, feeling my heart rate pick up.
My hand trails to my throat, fingers brushing where the nightmare felt oh so real this morning.
“I don’t need anything from you. I can do this by myself.
First it’s just a ‘little’ gift, and then it’s bigger gifts, and the invisible tally I don’t know about will start.
I’ll start to feel safe, and I’ll get complacent.
Then, if I don’t appreciate it enough, I’ll hear about it.
And you’ll expect something in return – everything in return. I-I can’t do that shit again.”
Benji tilts his head. “Again?” His eyes are suddenly clear of all sleep, and they’re focused on my hand. I realize it remains on my throat, and quickly lower it.
“Jesus –” I sputter. Shit. I was spiraling, and he’s seeing everything. He’s so attentive, and it’s terrifying. I immediately go on the defensive. “Can you not turn everything into an interrogation?”
“Maybe if you stopped icing me out, I wouldn’t have to keep asking questions.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I hate you.”
“Okay.” He shakes his head. “Except, I don’t think you actually hate me. I think you just hate that you want me, and you don’t know what to do about that.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe, boots still in hand, clearly willing to wait.
I open my mouth, then snap it closed as I look away. Benji clearly knows I want him – hell, I’d thrown myself at him last night, until he’d added conditions to it that were impossible to meet. I meet his gaze with an exasperated look of my own.
He smirks, dimples flashing at the way I’m meeting his challenge. “Go on,” he urges. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Fine,” I spit back. “I want you, okay? But I want you with no strings attached. No boots, no names, no games. Is that something you can do?”
His expression grows serious, and a muscle in his jaw ticks as he contemplates my offer. Finally, he shakes his head. “Nope. You’re too much, mystery girl. There needs to be some give and take here.”
I huff. This man is impossible. “Fine. A truth for a truth?”
“So you’ll give me your name?”
“Not that.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle. “That’s literally the bare minimum.”
“Can we not just do, like, favorite colors? Favorite foods?” These are things we can bond over without investing too much. I search his face for agreement, but his expression is resigned and sad. It makes me feel like I’ve failed him, somehow, and I don’t like it.
“You can trust me, you know,” he says softly. “I just want to know the real name of the person I’m talking to.”
I frown, confused. “It’s still me, no matter what you call me.”
“I could call you a lot of things, little fighter. They’d be mostly filthy. But I want one of them to be your real name.”
I give a frustrated sigh. How could he say something sweet and turn me on at the same time? “Screw you.”
He grins broadly. “That’s my girl.”
“Not what I meant. And I’m not your girl!” This conversation is clearly going nowhere. I straighten and wind Winny’s leash around my hand, giving the boots in Benji’s arms a final, pointed look. “I guess we have a stalemate, then.”
With a final huff, I turn on my heel and pull on Winny. He seems reluctant to leave Benji, which only irritates me further.
“Come on, Winny,” I say urgently. Finally, Winny lowers his head, trudging after me – but not without a dejected look back at Benji. Traitor. He’s lucky he’s so cute.
“Let me know if you change your mind, Lisa,” Benji calls after me, exaggerating the name in emphasis. “You know where to find me.”